


post-Cup win smut

by sevenfists



Series: Sid/Geno Tumblr ficlets [2]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Barebacking, Butt Plugs, M/M, Orgasm Denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-17
Updated: 2017-11-17
Packaged: 2019-02-03 14:59:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12750633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevenfists/pseuds/sevenfists
Summary: “Do you have it in?” Sid asked in the elevator on the way down to breakfast, cradling the Cup in his arms like a shiny, beloved dog, and Zhenya felt himself turn the same color red as a can of Coke.





	post-Cup win smut

“Do you have it in?” Sid asked in the elevator on the way down to breakfast, cradling the Cup in his arms like a shiny, beloved dog, and Zhenya felt himself turn the same color red as a can of Coke.

“Yes,” he said, clenching helplessly around the plug. It was new, a present from Sid, and a little bigger than what he was used to. He was trying not to think about how good it felt.

Sid smirked at him and stepped off the elevator.

“What’s in?” Shearsy asked. “What’s he talking about?”

Zhenya spent a few moments floundering around in search of a clever response. Nothing came to him. “You—shut up, Shearsy.”

Breakfast was a torment. Zhenya was hungover, his beard itched, and every time he shifted in his seat, the plug shifted in _him_. Sid sat beside him with one arm stretched along the back of Zhenya’s chair and casually ate off Zhenya’s plate, one home fry at a time. He would stay close until he got what he wanted.

He stayed close on the flight, camped out beside Zhenya most of the time, not touching him, not even really looking at him or paying any attention to him, drinking his stupid vodka and orange juice and laughing at Tanger. Zhenya couldn’t follow the conversation after a while, too focused on the fullness and pressure. He stole Sid’s stupid drink: hair of the dog.

“Okay, G?” Sid murmured to him, brushing his hand, just for a moment, down the back of Zhenya’s arm.

“Okay,” Zhenya said. Sid wouldn’t play these games with him during the playoffs, and Zhenya had forgotten how intense it could be. But he wanted it.

The game was waiting: hours on the plane, and the media greeting them at the airport, and Zhenya’s parents, ready to fuss over him forever. Zhenya finally made some dumb excuse about how he needed to go to Sid’s early to help him take things over to Mario’s. 

Sid wasn’t even home yet, still doing God only knew what with the Cup, but Zhenya let himself into the house and went upstairs and undressed. He shaved at Sid’s bathroom sink. He took a shower, even though he had showered that morning, because he was tired and he smelled like airplane and the hot water felt good. He reached down and rotated the plug in his ass, hissing as it rubbed against his sensitive rim. The plug turned smoothly: still slick. He was half-hard and had been for hours. 

He was drying off when he heard the alarm beep as Sid came in, and Sid’s feet on the stairs, Sid coming down the hall. “Sid,” he called out in warning, because Sid startled easily, and his shrieking was always funny but tended to kill the mood.

“I saw your car,” Sid said. He came into the washroom and ran his eyes over Zhenya’s naked body, hot and proprietary, like Zhenya belonged to him. 

Zhenya patted his nuts dry and dropped the towel on the floor. “We have time?” he asked.

“Half an hour,” Sid said. He licked his lips. He always tried to act like he was unaffected, but Zhenya saw the bulge in his trousers. “Bend over the sink.”

Zhenya did it, bracing his hands on the backsplash, and arching his back to lift his ass and show Sid the base of the plug between his cheeks. His cock hung thick and heavy between his legs. His hole felt stretched and soft and ready, and he was so ready for Sid to fuck him, and he had been since the five minutes in his hotel room that morning when he opened himself up with his fingers and slid the plug inside.

Sid muttered a curse. Zhenya heard his belt buckle and the soft zip of his fly. Sid came up behind Zhenya and caught his gaze in the mirror. He set the lube on the counter beside Zhenya’s elbow. He had taken off his shoes and his blazer, but otherwise he was still fully dressed.

“You ready?” Sid asked. His hand moved over his own dick, slicking himself up. 

“Yes, yes,” Zhenya said, and Sid grabbed the base of the plug and eased it out, and pushed in immediately with his cock. 

Zhenya hardly recognized the sound he made. Sid was thicker and longer than the plug, and it was a stretch to take all at once. His body clenched repeatedly around Sid’s dick, adjusting, but Sid didn’t give him any time to get used to it. He pulled out and shoved in again, one hand hard on Zhenya’s hip, holding him in place for Sid to thrust into.

“Christ,” Sid said, and tossed the plug in the sink.

“Do me,” Zhenya said. He spread his fingers wide against the cool stone of the backsplash, and pushed back into the next roll of Sid’s hips. 

Sid gave it to him: slow and deep, exactly how Sid liked it. Zhenya wanted it faster and at a different angle, but Sid didn’t care, and that was the game, too: for Sid to be selfish and take what he wanted, and for Zhenya to let Sid use him. 

“How it feels?” Zhenya asked, watching Sid’s flushed face in the mirror, his teeth set hard in his lower lip as he dragged his dick out and paused there with the head holding Zhenya open. They hadn’t gotten each other off in a week, and it had been a lot longer than that since they fucked, and Sid was losing it already, breathing hard, pulling out quick and going so slow on the way in.

“Fucking amazing,” Sid said, and sank back in. “You’re so soft and—hot, you feel so good,” and he squeezed Zhenya’s hips and ground forward, his balls tight against Zhenya’s perineum and the base of his dick. The soft wool of his trousers prickled against the skin of Zhenya’s ass.

“Come in me,” Zhenya said, “half hour,” and Sid groaned and hauled Zhenya back to meet his next thrust, dragging Zhenya down onto his dick.

He watched in the mirror as Sid got close: his head tipping back, his eyes squeezing shut. Zhenya was desperate for a hand on his dick, but he couldn’t spare one, not with Sid slamming into him now, jostling him forward on each thrust. 

“You come,” Zhenya said roughly, “do it, come in me—”

Sid groaned and his hips twitched and Zhenya felt the deep sudden warmth of his come.

“God,” Sid panted, “Geno, God. We won the fucking Stanley Cup.”

Zhenya started laughing. He couldn’t help it. “That’s what get you off? Not my ass, you think about Cup the whole time—”

“I can have your ass whenever I want it,” Sid said. “But it’s taken us seven years to get the Cup again.” He pulled out, one hand on the back of Zhenya’s neck to keep him bent over the sink, and slapped Zhenya’s ass with his other hand, a quick crack to make Zhenya jump. “Stay down.”

“You bossy,” Zhenya said, wondering what he could say to get Sid’s hand on his cock.

“You like it,” Sid said. He rubbed his thumb over Zhenya’s hole. “You’re a mess.” He reached into the sink to grab the plug, and before Zhenya could react, shoved it back into Zhenya’s ass.

“Fuck!” Zhenya said, rearing back.

“We don’t have time,” Sid said. “Get dressed. We’ve got to get over to Mario’s.” He nudged Zhenya out of the way so he could wash his hands at the sink.

Zhenya looked down at his own dick, painfully hard and painfully neglected, and shot a betrayed look at Sid.

“I see you,” Sid said. He turned and put his wet hand in Zhenya’s hair and tugged him down for a quick kiss. “I’ll get you later. I promise.” He looked up at Zhenya, his expression still soft with orgasm. “And in the meantime I’ll get to spend the whole evening thinking about you walking around with that plug in your ass.”

“I don’t know why I love you,” Zhenya said in Russian, and went to find his pants.


End file.
